


How to Please Your Boss

by lost_stickie_note



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: #stickieallover, AO3 needs more Zhangjun smut, Anal Sex, Lemon, M/M, Office Sex, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Zhangjun, plotty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-23 01:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15595278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note
Summary: Yanjun is his boss, but who cares?Oh wait, Zhangjing does.Pretty much PWP (porn without plot), but it's so long that I don't know if it can be considered "without plot" anymore. So now, courtesy of a friend, I am coining the term "Plotty Smut," which I am now going to tag all my ridiculously long smuts with.#Zhangjun #stickieallover





	How to Please Your Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Smut warning~~
> 
> Omg, this took legit forever to write. My newest addition to the #AO3needsmoreZhangjunsmut tag. Over 9k words, what am I doing with my life. I really hope you all enjoy this, and please leave me nice comments if you liked it, haha. Birthday present for Lin Yanjun's 23rd. ♡ I love Zhangjun so much. Many well wishes to the birthday boy. + I also released a fluff piece for Zhangjun for Yanjun's birthday - 'Just a Few Minutes'.
> 
> Apologies in advance if this sucks or if it's not what people expected, lol. 
> 
> Not sure how many people read my long-ass notes, but if anyone has any Zhangjun smut one-shot ideas they want to see, please drop them for me via my Curious Cat: [CC](https://curiouscat.me/loststickienote)
> 
> Also! I am planning on participating in the Nine of Cups fic fest going on. To read more about it, here is the event twitter: [Nine of Cups Fic Fest!](https://twitter.com/nineofcupsnpc)
> 
> Specifically, if anyone has any prompts that they think they'd be interested in submitting, GO FOR IT PLEASE. And spread the word around to writers/readers.
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, you know who you are. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream at me about 9% :o I don't bite, and I'm _relatively_ friendly, hehe.

Zhangjing barely stops himself from whimpering out loud.

 

He really hopes nothing had shown on his face, and he continues speaking, giving an update on their newest project to the remote team working in Korea. The stack of papers in his hands contains all the information that he needs, but right now, the words are blurring into a useless jumble and the numbers don't make sense either. The sales figures give him enough difficulty in the first place, and after adding in distractions, it might as well be in some alien language. And he tries, he really tries hard to act like nothing is wrong. But looking at the confused looks from the other end of their conference call on the screen, he clearly isn't doing the best job. 

 

"Sorry, could you repeat that again?"

 

Thankfully, the distraction stops, just long enough for Zhangjing to explain his assessment again. His part is done, and the remote team moves on to talk about the progress on their end, giving him a brief respite from concentrating on the conversation. But not paying attention to their conference call is bad, bad because that allows him to focus his thoughts on something else. Like the fact that Yanjun is smirking at him, amused and teasing. Or the fact that there's a pressure on his inner thigh, far too close to his cock that, to his horror, he can feel getting hard. Or that they are in a  _glass conference room_  that people can see into, co-workers walking by periodically.

 

Or maybe the fact that Yanjun is his fucking boss.

 

Oh yeah, that one should probably be higher on the list.

 

The meeting had started off innocuously enough, with Yanjun being the voice of the company as the CEO not-so-subtly deferring all responsibility to Zhangjing at the beginning, reassuring the other party on the line that of course his personal assistant knows all the ins and outs of the company. And Zhangjing  _does_. He knows the company plans like the back of his hand. Over the past months, he has transitioned from a personal assistant role to more of a help-Yanjun-run-his-goddamn-company role, being present at all meetings, involved in all transactions.  _I deserve a pay raise for this._ And the first half of the call had gone spectacularly well, especially since Zhangjing had been the one to put together the packet of updates together for Yanjun in the first place. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye though, he had seen Yanjun getting restless, probably because the other man was sort of a control freak, liking to do everything himself. After all, he had built this company up from scratch by himself, starting out with only a measly three employees, now nearing two hundred and still growing. Zhangjing supposed that Yanjun had only passed off the presentation to him in order to get a rise out of him. He had felt oddly triumphant seeing the other man's plan backfire.  _That's what you get._ But he should have known. Yanjun never loses. He almost fell out of his chair when he first felt the other man's fingers, lightly stroking the inside of his thigh. He had thought he was imagining things. Because no way Yanjun would be that bold...or that  _stupid._  

 

But he was wrong.

 

And all of a sudden, Zhangjing was acutely aware that he was lucky the video conference call was only showing their upper bodies, not depicting the subtle stroking motion that Yanjun was making under the table. He stuttered, leading the two men speaking with them to ask him to repeat his statement. Yanjun had smoothly interjected, repeating Zhangjing's assessment and moving on to elaborate on the plan.

 

All while running the fingers of his right hand up and down Zhangjing's thigh. 

 

Zhangjing had soldiered on though, gritting his teeth and bearing the teasing. And he had been doing pretty well at keeping it together, that is until he looked at the man sitting next to him during a lull in the conversation. Yanjun had been staring at him with a languid expression on his face, a faint smile, his lips curled up slightly at the edges. His head was tilted, propped up casually by his other hand, his chin in his palm, his fingers splayed out over his cheek. And Zhangjing was struck by how long and delicate the other man's fingers were. Up till then, everything had been fine, and he had almost managed to block out the fact that Yanjun was nonchalantly coming very close to stroking his cock under the conference room table.

 

But then the memory rose to the forefront of his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

 

Yanjun's long and delicate fingers.

 

Specifically, Yanjun's long and delicate fingers curled tightly inside of him as he muffled his screams of pleasure against the pillows on Yanjun's bed.

 

Also, known as the mistake-he-made-last-weekend.

 

_Fuck._

 

And something must have shown on his face because Yanjun jumped on the moment like a shark smelling blood in the water, his grin widening before letting out a question in a slow drawl. "So Zhangjing, what's your opinion on that?"

 

He had no opinion. 

 

Because he had spent the last ten minutes staring at Yanjun's stupidly attractive face and remembering the time that his boss had fingered him in the ass. 

 

_You fucking prick._

 

Zhangjing struggled to string together a coherent thought, a shot in the dark, making an educated guess as to what they had been discussing. Yanjun had frowned when whatever he said actually made sense in the context of the conversation, leading to the remote team inquiring more. That was twenty minutes ago, and Zhangjing now has a sneaking suspicion that the other man isn't going to stop, Yanjun's hand inching closer and closer to his growing erection. 

 

_Yanjun is totally getting a kick out of this._

 

The thought makes him seethe with a simmering anger, and he glares at the other man, his jaw locked tight with irritation. The only response he gets is a smirk. And if it wasn't for the fact that they are in a very public place, he would have already smacked Yanjun. He's fully hard now, the fabric of his pants tight and restricting against his erection. Yanjun's fingers are still lazily stroking the inside of his thigh, not quite touching his cock. And he is having the worst inner dilemma at the moment. On the one hand, the whole situation is all types of inappropriate, wrong, unprofessional, unacceptable...but then again,  _it would be nice if Yanjun would just grab my cock and get me off already._

 

Zhangjing has an overwhelming urge to bang his head against the table.

 

"Does that sound like the correct course of action?"

 

Oh yeah, the conference call.

 

Zhangjing distractedly runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry, can you repeat that last part?"

 

The man does, and Zhangjing is about to answer but all that comes out is a loud yelp of surprise. The apologies come out automatically as the other two men on the video call are staring at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, I just thought I saw a bug. Apologies, so what I was about to say..." And Zhangjing continues answering the last question, explaining the thoughts he has about the proposed plans, any potential loopholes or pitfalls. He tries hard not to look at the other man sitting next to him because he knows that if he does, he's going to snap.  _I can't believe Yanjun grabbed my cock._ And Zhangjing doesn't know whether he should be pissed off that the other man waited until the  _exact moment he opened his mouth to talk_ or whether he should be insanely aroused that Yanjun is palming him through his pants, thumb pressing against his tip, stroking in small circles. 

 

Zhangjing  _should_  be pissed off.

 

He has every right to be pissed off.

 

But at the same time, the arousal is tightening, curling deliciously in his groin, and his legs are shaking slightly with the effort of holding back too long, knocking periodically against the knuckles of Yanjun's hand in between his legs. It also doesn't help that Yanjun keeps looking at him with a smirk on his face, knowing that he is getting a rise out of Zhangjing now. And he is desperately trying to not remember the events from the last weekend, but it's getting increasingly difficult as Yanjun is practically giving him a handjob over his pants at this point, and all he's imagining in his head is Yanjun smirking at him as he crawls closer to Zhangjing on the bed. And the soft touch of the other man's lips against his neck that quickly turns into harder bites, making him gasp in pleasure and buck up to meet Yanjun's hips, who is straddling him tightly...

 

"So I think that's everything we need to discuss. Do you have anything else Zhangjing?" The other man's smooth voice jerks him out of his thoughts, and he can feel himself turning red in embarrassment, hoping to god that the two men on their conference call can't see the color in his cheeks. "No, uhhh, I think that's all I had for today." Zhangjing kicks himself mentally hearing his voice come out all breathless and tinny. He clears his throat and tries again, taking on a more assertive tone. "That was everything we needed to talk about. Don't hesitate to contact us if you have any more questions, and we will have a follow-up conference call in a few weeks to discuss the progress of the project."

 

The two men nod, thank them, and sign off.

 

"What the  _fuck_ was that, Yanjun?" Zhangjing finally feels it's safe to glare at his boss now, the anger coming out in waves off his body. "We were having a conference call with some very important people. And they're the ones spearheading the project out in Korea to expand out client base, and this was our  _first_ check-in. Not to mention that was the most unprofessional, uncalled-for, inappropriate..."

 

"But you seemed to like it." The other man has his elbows on the on the table now, his cheek squished up against his hand forming a fist, his head tilted slightly, and Yanjun isn't even trying to hide anymore. He is grinning, a fully intentionally mocking grin, and the absurdity of the whole situation makes Zhangjing's anger rise. 

 

"I most certainly. did. not." 

 

_God help me, if he wasn't my boss and could potentially fire me, I seriously would have slapped him by now._

 

Yanjun has the audacity to roll his eyes before speaking. "You were hard, weren't you?"

 

"I didn't...I wasn't..." And Zhangjing is sputtering now, his brain working furiously to try and form a coherent counterargument or even a shitty argument. Fuck, at this point, even  _any_ words would be nice. "...okay, I was."

 

And Yanjun is just continuing to look at him, watching him flounder like a fish out of water, clearly enjoying watching him squirm. "BUT...that doesn't change the fact that you were being so unprofessional, inappropriate..."

 

The other man cuts him off. "You already said that. Are you going to come up with something else or should I just assume that you're okay with fucking, just not on live conference calls?"

 

Zhangjing doesn't know what to say anymore, and he's distinctly aware that he's definitely gaping at the other man. Most likely with a stupid look on his face, judging by the way Yanjun is looking at him with mirth. "That is so not the point." Now the anger is rising again in his chest, instilling some more courage into him, fueling him to keep going. "In fact, that is so far from the point that you are not even in the same room as the point. You are all the way across the city sitting in a shitty car, parked in a garage four levels underground, no, you are literally so far away from the point that you're on the other side of the universe..." Zhangjing feels all the anger come pouring out of him, and he rises from his seat to glare down at the other man, his index finger jabbing at the air in front of him angrily to enunciate each of his words. "...in a whole separate galaxy away from the point. That's how far-"

 

A knock on the door, and the Yanjun's secretary sticks her head into the room, presumably about to relay some news.

 

His first thought.

 

_Oh my god, am I still hard?_

 

The sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, a piercing scream, and Zhangjing tries to sit down too quickly into the chair  _because he's not completely sure_ , and he misjudges exactly where the chair is behind him. All of a sudden, his butt meets air after only catching the edge, and air is not exactly something he can sit on. So he's falling backwards, his legs giving way from out beneath him in an ungraceful way, and Zhangjing finds himself on the floor, halfway under the table. Needless to say, not his most shining moment. But it could be worse.  _At least I'm not sporting an erection right now._

 

Both Yanjun and his secretary are peering down at him curiously, worried looks on their faces. Scratch that, the secretary has a worried look on her face. Zhangjing glares at Yanjun who is clearly trying with difficulty to hold back his laughter, his eyes bright with amusement. "Mr. You, are you okay?" The secretary asks politely, and Zhangjing looks at her gratefully. "I'm fine." And he struggles to come up with a logical explanation for his behavior, but it takes him exactly two seconds to realize that there isn't one. Absolutely none. So he just repeats himself. "I'm fine. Did you want to talk to us about something?"

 

"Oh yes. Mr. Chen called. He's expecting a call back at 3 today."

 

Yanjun nods in confirmation. "Thank you for the reminder. I will make sure to call him at 3." The other man looks down at his watch. "That's in about an hour and a half. Can you come give me another reminder 30 minutes beforehand? I will be in my office."

 

"Of course, Mr. Lin."

 

The door closes behind her, and Zhangjing lets out a small sigh of relief. "That was stressful." He smiles slightly at the other man, his prior irritation forgotten.

 

Yanjun stares at him intensely without speaking, and there is so much silence that Zhangjing is afraid to speak, lest he break whatever unspoken message that the other man is trying to convey. After what seems like forever, Yanjun lets out a small huff and grins at him. "By the way, I don't own any  _shitty_  cars."

 

_So. Not. The. Point._

 

Zhangjing is fuming as he follows the taller man back to his office. Before he had a chance to retort, Yanjun had gotten up quickly was out the door. Zhangjing is still becoming accustomed to the other man's behavior, and it took him a few days to realize that Yanjun expected him to automatically follow whenever he left the room. So Zhangjing speeds him, trying to catch up with the longer stride of the other man. Yanjun nods a thank you to his secretary as they pass by, winding further down the hallway that leads to his office. When he had first seen the way to his boss' office, Zhangjing had questioned why it was located so far away from the rest. 

 

"I like quiet. And privacy."

 

He had originally concluded that Yanjun was just an introvert.

 

Zhangjing definitely didn't expect  _this_.

 

Yanjun turns so quickly after Zhangjing slips into the office behind him that Zhangjing halfway crashes into the other man's chest. And all of a sudden, he feels Yanjun's arms encircling him, trapping him, and he almost goes into full-on panic mode.  _What the hell is he doing?_ But then he relaxes as he realizes that the other man is just trying to close the door, the soft click of the metal pieces coming together. Or at least that's what he thought. Two seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds. And the taller man hasn't moved his arms yet, so Zhangjing looks up curiously.

 

He gasps involuntarily.

 

Yanjun is  _way too fucking close._

 

The other man is staring at him intensely, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He can feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into their depths, dark and murky. And for the first time, he notices just how sharp Yanjun's cheekbones are, remembering the feeling of them digging into his neck as the taller man left love bites over the skin above his collarbones.  _His lips._ Zhangjing needs to remind himself to breathe in. They are full and soft, slightly chapped on the bottom, and he has the urge to bite the other boy’s bottom lip. The memory comes to him, of the other man kissing him with a bruising intensity until he was gasping for air.

 

_Fuck, I need to stop thinking about this._

But it’s sort of hard when Yanjun is staring at him looking like he wants nothing more than to devour him.

 

"Do you want to fuck right now?"

 

The moment is broken.

 

Zhangjing bristles. “No, why would you ask that?”

 

“Because you look like you want to fuck right now.”

 

“I do not.”

 

Yanjun leans closer, and Zhangjing shivers with anticipation when he feels the light graze of the other man’s lips up against his ear, his hot breath tickling his earlobe. “Well, you’re slightly flushed, looking at me with aroused blown-out pupils, and you’re breathing a bit heavily.” A pause. “Dare I say, panting lightly. I would say you’re the picture-perfect image of someone who wants to be fucked.”

 

The long drawn-out moan comes out unwilling as he feels the other man palm him through his pants accompanied by the tongue swirling playfully around his earlobe before ending in a light nip, turning his low moan into a hiss of arousal. “And if you didn’t want to be fucked before, you certainly do now.”

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Zhangjing tries to take on the most indignant tone he can muster after his embarrassingly lacking display of self-restraint. He stays up as straight as possible and lets his features settle into a mix of a disapproving frown and angry scowl.

 

"Yanjun, what do you think you're doing? You're my goddamn boss."

 

The taller man raises an eyebrow at him, his trademark sexy smirk gracing his features. "You didn't seem to object when I fucked you after our company holiday party last week. In fact, I explicitly remembering you staying the whole night actually. Are you really going to just now use the excuse that I'm your boss to get out of this?"

 

Zhangjing feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the protests flow out quickly. "That was a one time thing."

 

Yanjun's grin widens even further, and Zhangjing gets the distinct feeling that he's about to be mocked. "One time things usually don't happen again two hours later. Or again the morning after."

 

_Goddamnit, he's infuriating._

 

He finds himself at a loss for words, not quite knowing how to defend himself against all these _fucking true facts._ And he must be looking helpless and defenseless because Yanjun takes the opportunity to move closer, still smirking with the confidence of someone who knows they have the upper hand. Zhangjing backs up as the other man moves closer, wanting to keep as much distance as possible between him and _certain doom._ But his mouth widens in horror the instant he feels it.

 

His back against the door.

 

But Yanjun isn’t stopping, and now he’s once again inches away from Zhangjing’s face.

 

Yanjun knows he’s trapped.

 

Zhangjing knows he’s trapped.

 

Worse, Yanjun knows Zhangjing knows he’s trapped.

 

Even worse, he’s supposed to be goddamn angry with Yanjun, but instead all he feels is the pit of arousal starting in his groin, curling deliciously and licking at his insides, inciting a yearning for the other man.

 

_Fuck, fuck._

He doesn’t even try to resist when Yanjun grabs both of his wrists gently, and it seems to take forever for the other man to finish what he’s doing. Zhangjing feels the arousal spreading through his body as his knuckles scrape up against the wooden door, smooth to the touch. And Yanjun moves his arms up from being by his sides to above his head, at an excruciatingly slow pace, his gaze boring into Zhangjing.

 

Forever has never felt so long.

 

But finally his wrists meet at the middle above him, and the contact makes him exhale breathlessly.

 

“I like you pinned up like this.”

 

And Yanjun’s left hand tightens around both of his wrists, locking them together in place, almost like handcuffs branding him. The other man digs his palm inwards and upwards, and Zhangjing whimpers softly at the pressure, feeling the potential bruises that may blossom on his skin tomorrow. Yanjun pins him in way that makes him arch his back slightly in order to feel comfortable standing, his wrists just a bit too high on the back of the door.

 

The position makes him feel vulnerable.

 

It doesn’t help that Yanjun is letting out low groans of possessiveness.

 

Zhangjing’s breath quickens when Yanjun’s other hand comes up, and the other man is running his fingertips lightly over the skin of his neck, his thumb pressing down on his pulse point. A strangled cry escapes from his lips, eliciting a low chuckle from Yanjun. “You like that?”

 

“I-I…” Zhangjing can’t get any proper words out, the touch of Yanjun’s fingers making his eyes flutter open and closed with desire. “Yes.” The answer is drawn out of him in a gasp that is halfway between arousal and pain as he feels Yanjun’s nail draw a line lazily down his neck, a bit of sharpness between the soft touch of his fingers.

 

He cries out in protest when he feels Yanjun’s hand tighten slightly around his neck, but the action is only to remove his tie, the other man tugging sharply to loosen it. Zhangjing wonders briefly what the other man is planning to do, but he doesn’t have to think long, as Yanjun unbuttons the top few buttons on his shirt, throwing his tie away to the side.

 

A sharp inhale.

 

Yanjun sweeps the collar of his shirt out of the way to get a closer look at his collarbones.

 

_Oh yeah._

And now the other man is tracing his fingers over the marks left over on his skin, still a faded, mottled, bluish black, not quite gone from last weekend. Zhangjing had been especially conscious of his clothes this week, checking multiple times in the bathroom mirror to make sure nothing was showing before leaving for work. A physical reminder, a mistake.

 

But even so, seeing them in the mirror, naked in the bathroom, made him remember just how good his mistake felt. And last night, he couldn’t resist before bedtime. It felt too quick, stroking himself as he imagined his boss taking him from behind last weekend. More than once. It had been a long night, and an even longer morning. They had kept going until Zhangjing’s thighs trembled from the effort of being spread open for far too long. Until he stopped being able to form full sentences, a writhing and whining mess under Yanjun.

 

He had enjoyed it far more than he’d care to admit.

 

Not that he’d ever tell Yanjun that.

 

Not over his dead body.

 

He had stroked himself to completion, finishing to the image in his mind of Yanjun’s piercing gaze, his mouth curled up into a half smile, half smirk. Zhangjing blushes now, remembering the stickiness covering his left hand, a few drops staining the covers of his bed. It had been a long time since he had finished so intensely while masturbating.

 

_And it’s all his fault._

Yanjun is still staring at the marks he left last weekend, his thumb running over the small love bites gently, his eyebrows drawn together in what seems like apparent fascination. And Zhangjing is just as fascinated, his heart going soft as he watches the other man. For the first time, Yanjun isn’t wearing his characteristic smirk or trying to annoy the fuck out of him, and Zhangjing opens his mouth to comment on this fact.

 

But the words he is about to speak turn into a sharp cry.

 

Zhangjing feels tears pricking his eyes as the pain comes when Yanjun bites down hard over the still-bruised skin while at the same time slamming his wrists hard up against the door. He whimpers, feeling the other man’s teeth marking him. But the sounds from his mouth turn into mewls of pleasure as Yanjun swirls his tongue over the bites, tracing lazily over his collarbones, sucking gently, a far cry from the intensity just moments prior. And Yanjun’s other hand is untucking the bottom of his shirt from his pants, fingers brushing the skin just above his pants, thumb stroking his hip bone.

 

“Mine.”

 

The word is murmured into his neck as Yanjun nuzzles him, and Zhangjing hardens at the other man’s low and throaty tone. His mouth is dry, and the words come out cracked. “W-what did you say?”

 

Yanjun stops planting kisses on the sensitive skin of his neck, his other hand near his pants stalling too. And Zhangjing feels the loss of the other man’s ministrations keenly, an unbidden whine escaping, his hips automatically reaching up for more contact.

 

The other man smirks at him. “I said,” He drags out the word, emphasizing his point. “That you’re _mine_.”

 

Zhangjing can’t feel anything except the blood pounding in his head, making him dizzy with arousal, and he tries to reply as sharply as possible. “W-what m-makes you s-say that? Don’t be p-resumptuous. I never said I w-wanted you b-back.”

 

_His smirk is so irritating._

 

“Because this.”

 

And Yanjun cups his erection hard, causing the desire that was pooling in his groin to diffuse through his body, and the moan comes out involuntarily, swallowed up abruptly by Yanjun pressing his mouth over his. All Zhangjing can taste is the other man, tongue hot and heavy inside his mouth, exploring every inch. And he lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine when Yanjun catches his tongue, sucking lightly before nibbling on his lower lip.

“Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself.”

 

Yanjun stops kissing him for a moment to look at him with bright eyes full of amusement. “If you stop lying to me, I’ll make you feel even better.”

 

Zhangjing laughs weakly. “What do you want me to say?”

 

“Say you want me.”

 

Zhangjing doesn’t respond immediately, and he can see the irritation in the other man’s eyes. He yelps when his wrists are suddenly released, and his back slides down against the door, but his momentum is stopped when the hands slip under the back of his thighs, hoisting him up. And his legs automatically come up to wrap around the other man’s waist, a familiar action. Zhangjing hisses when he feels his erection pressing up tightly against Yanjun’s crotch, the friction inciting throbbing of his cock. His arms come up to grasp at the taller man’s shoulders, not wanting to lose his balance.

 

“Do you?”

 

With a shock, Zhangjing realizes that there’s _uncertainty_ in the other man’s face. Just a tinge. And Yanjun’s hand is cradling his face as the other arm steadies his waist. Yanjun’s fingers are spread against his cheek, his thumb running over Zhangjing’s bottom lip in a rare moment of carefulness.

 

“Well, do you?”

 

  _Do I?_

Zhangjing thinks back to his mistake last weekend. He had been too tipsy, having not had alcohol in a while, and his low tolerance had fucked him. Yanjun had needed him to make the rounds and help with playing host for the night, something the other many realized he was completely unable to do after taking one look at him.

 

“You’re drunk.” He had stated.

 

“No I’m not.” Zhangjing pouted. “I only had a few.”

 

He remembered Yanjun’s mouth being set in a tight-lipped line, staring at him impassively. “Yes, you are. I’m taking you inside.”

 

Zhangjing yelped when the other man swept him up in his arms bridal-style, raining down protest after protest. “Stop it. You’re going to sleep this off. I don’t want you entertaining guests right now anyways.”

 

He had tried to bang his fists against the other man’s chest in an effort to get Yanjun to put him down, but the other man had ignored him, taking the back entrance into his home, up the sweeping staircase, and into the bedroom. “Here, you can use my bed.”

 

Zhangjing sighed when the other man deposited him gently on to the bed. _His bed is so soft._ “I need to go back down. Get some sleep.”

 

“Wait,” Zhangjing grabbed Yanjun’s tie, pulling him down closer to his face so he can whisper the words, a breathless confession. “You’re a lot nicer than you act at the office.”

 

Yanjun’s face had frozen in surprise, and Zhangjing remembered thinking how it was the first time he had managed to throw the other man off, his normally composed self, a constant while working. And he desperately didn’t want to admit it, but the alcohol had loosened his tongue, more so than it should have. Zhangjing giggled when the other man shied away from his touch, his hand coming up stroke Yanjun’s cheek, his fingers running over the other man’s lips. But he was uncoordinated, and his fingers can’t do the stroking action he was imagining in his head, and with a slight shiver, he realized that he feels a wetness, his fingertips in the other man’s mouth, pressed up against his tongue.

 

“And it’s a secret.” Zhangjing whispered conspiratorially. “But I think you’re kind of hot.”

 

Yanjun had let out a low throaty guttural groan of need. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” A pause. “Or will regret.”

 

Alcohol had always made him stupid courageous.

 

Zhangjing pulled Yanjun down closer, closer, closer by his tie.

 

He raised his head slightly to brush his lips against the other man’s lips in a light butterfly touch, soft and chaste.

 

Another groan of desire from Yanjun.

 

And suddenly, Yanjun was everywhere and nowhere at once, his touch painting desire into Zhangjing’s skin as he quivered and begged for more. Begged to be released from the tightness that had settled in his body heavily and made him arch up to meet the other man, desperate to be touched. He remembered moaning Yanjun’s name into open-mouthed kisses, and his sobs of longing that turned into cries of desire as Yanjun finally let him release after hours of letting him teeter on the edge.

 

Yanjun never made it back downstairs to the party.

 

He had woken up the next morning to Yanjun smiling at him lazily and a pounding in his head, still naked, Yanjun’s sheets soft against his bare skin. The other man’s voice was gentle. “How are you feeling?”

 

“A little crappy to be honest.” Zhangjing licked his dry lips. “My head hurts a bit.”

 

“Let me get you some water and Tylenol.” Yanjun slipped out of the bed and made his way towards the bedroom door as Zhangjing fell back into the bed to question his life decisions.

 

_Fuck._

Yanjun was his boss.

 

_This cannot be happening right now._

_I should never have alcohol again._

_How did I even get into this mess?_

“Hey.” Yanjun is walking back into the room with the promised water and medicine for his head.

 

And Zhangjing remembers exactly why.

 

Because Yanjun is fucking gorgeous, inside and out.

 

Even if he sometimes got under Zhangjing’s skin, irritating the fuck out of him by having him re-do the formatting on reports so they are just the way Yanjun likes them or dumping stacks of paper on his desk, leaving him to figure out the _quote on quote_ best way to organize everything, Zhangjing still got to see the rare moments in his longest hours. The late nights when Yanjun was the only one left in the office, not bearing to leave until all the prep work for meetings was reviewed personally. The pain in Yanjun’s face when he found out one of his employees had been diagnosed with cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy after the word got around that she had been crying in the bathroom. The next day Yanjun had asked him to write out a check to cover the college tuition of the woman’s son.

 

He was a good boss and an even better person.

 

“Thanks.” Zhangjng downed the Tylenol with a swish of water.

 

He froze when he felt Yanjun press a kiss to his forehead. “Feel better.”

 

And Zhangjing was suddenly acutely aware that Yanjun was still naked. And he was still naked. And he’s sitting in Yanjun’s bed, in Yanjun’s house, after having a long night of slightly drunken sex that he was sort of regretting, but also sort of not regretting one bit. And Yanjun was looking at him with bright eyes and an easy smile, free of any sarcasm or cockiness.

 

So he stopped thinking.

 

Yanjun responded to his kiss by going slow, making love to him in a way that was all too different from the previous night. It had taken a long time, ending with Zhangjing finishing all over his stomach, his thighs wrapped tightly around Yanjun as the other man pressed his forehead to his, looking intensely into his eyes as he came. And Yanjun had come a few thrusts later, finishing inside him.

 

Afterwards, Yanjun had made them both breakfast, two omelets with green peppers, mushrooms, and cheese before driving him home. And Zhangjing distinctly remembered thinking that he wouldn’t mind seeing Yanjun wearing an apron in his kitchen every day.

 

Zhangjing snaps himself out of his thoughts.

 

“Yes.” His voice comes out breathy. “Yes, I do want you, Yanjun.”

 

The other man’s response is immediate, and he gives a yelp of surprise as his back isn’t pressed up against the door anymore. Instead, Yanjun carries him over to the desk, the feeling of Yanjun’s hands on the backs of his thighs burning a blush into his cheeks. The taller man places him down on the desk, his legs hanging over the desk, and Zhangjing realizes with horror what’s about to happen next.

 

His voice comes out in a squeak, high-pitched. “We can’t just do it on your desk! You have meetings in here. And lots of important documents end up on your desk. And people can _see your desk if they walk past your office._ ” And Zhangjing is truly panicking now, turning to look behind him at the offending glass cut-outs that let him see directly into the hallway leading to Yanjun’s office. “What if someone sees us?”

 

Yanjun looks at him in amusement. “Well, what do you suggest?”

 

His comment comes out indignant. “That we find someplace more private of course.”

 

Zhangjing hates when Yanjun raises one eyebrow at him. It never bodes well. The other man’s response is a drawl full of sarcasm. “Yes, because when I helped design this building for the company, I definitely put in a secret room into the blueprint so that I could have a _private_ place to bang my personal assistant.”

 

Yanjun’s mouth curls into a smirk. “But actually not a terrible idea. I’ll keep that in mind if we ever have to expand into a second building.”

 

He sputters. “That’s not how I meant it.”

 

“Hmmm. Well, nevertheless, it doesn’t matter.” A cocky smile. “I’ll just fire anyone who sees.”

 

“You wouldn’t do t-“

 

Zhangjing’s panicked response gets cut off abruptly, transitioning into a moan of desire and whimpers of need. Yanjun had made quick work of his pants without him noticing, unbuttoning the top and sliding off his belt. And all his protests dissolve into a garbled mess when the other man wraps his mouth around his half-hardened cock and begins to bob his head up and down.

 

“I-I…Yanjun.” He finally squeals. “Stop, stop, stop.”

 

He half expects nothing to happen, but to his surprise, the other man stops his ministrations immediately and looks up at him from his kneeling position between Zhangjing’s spread open legs on the edge of the desk, Yanjun’s forearms resting on the inside of his thighs.

 

“Hmmm?”

 

Zhangjing doesn’t have a coherent response ready.

 

“You want me to stop?” Yanjun sticks out his tongue teasingly, licking languidly from the base of his cock to the tip, slowly ending in a light but quick suck. “I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

 

He feels himself flushing hard, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. Because he was. Enjoying himself. Immensely. And Yanjun is still staring up at him with the smirk that would normally irritate him while working but makes his pulse quicken whenever the other man teases him sexually. Yanjun’s head is tilted to one side, hair slightly messy from being in between his legs, sticking up in the front from pressing up against his lower body while sucking him off.

 

“I’m just _concerned_.”

 

Zhangjing closes his eyes with pleasure when he feels Yanjun against his ear again, his wet tongue twirling around the sensitive spot of his earlobe, nipping lightly. _I never should have told him that I’m sensitive there._ “Stop worrying. Just let me take care of everything. All you need to worry about is how much time you’re going to spend being bent over my desk as I fuck you from behind.” The low chuckle makes the arousal shoot straight to his cock. “And whether you’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow.” A harder nip of his earlobe. “I’m hoping the answer is no.”

 

Yanjun’s hot breath on his ear melts all his resolve. “Trust me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

And Zhangjing gasps as the other man takes his cock back into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks to accommodate Zhangjing’s full length. But the gasps of pleasure turn into whines when he realizes that Yanjun isn’t _goddamn moving._ Or at least not fast enough. So he pulls on the other man’s hair lightly in frustration. Yanjun moans around his cock, and Zhangjing swears that his voice goes up another octave.

 

“Yanjun, please…please…please…” And the tugging seems to be working because the harder he pulls on the other man’s hair, the faster Yanjun goes.

 

Yanjun has built up a rhythm now, moving up and down, up and down, as his hands are pushing on his inner thighs, keeping his legs wide open, preventing Zhangjing from automatically squeezing Yanjun in between his legs. And the result is that the arousal is building too quickly, the feeling of Yanjun’s tongue swirling around haphazardly in random patterns as the man takes in his cock with each stroke, eliciting mewls of pleasure from him each time he feels the tip of his cock hit the back of Yanjun’s throat. “H-how are y-you so good a-at this?”

 

The compliment causes Yanjun to moan in appreciation, and Zhangjing almost loses it as he feels the vibration, his tip nestled up tightly against the back. And then the other man gives another hard suck, the tightness causing him to cry out in surprise. “I-I’m close, Yanjun.”

 

And he’s pulling the other man’s hair hard now, urging Yanjun to provide him with his release, legs trembling with the effort of being forced apart by the other man. But suddenly, he doesn’t feel any contact, and Zhangjing’s eyes open quickly to peer down Yanjun, a stream of indignant comments on the tip of his tongue. His words catch in his throat though when he sees Yanjun’s gaze.

 

Hard. Unforgiving.

 

“Not yet.” Yanjun exhales slowly. “I’m not letting you come until I’m tired of hearing you beg.” He grins lazily. “So I guess that means you better start now.”

 

It doesn’t take long before he starts to beg, his arousal plateauing as Yanjun takes his cock back into his mouth, moving far too slowly, just enough to keep him hard, but no where close to making him come. Yanjun’s tongue is rubbing up against the underside of his cock, teasing the tip until the arousal pools tightly in his groin, trapped with nowhere to go. “Y-Yanjun, please.”

 

“Please what?” The other man hums the words around his cock, making Zhangjing moan vigorously.

 

“P-please, I want to come.” The blush spreads across his face, heating the tips of his ears, and he adds on shyly. “Please, m-make me come.”

 

Zhangjing finds himself flipped around in an instant, being pulled off the desk, his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles. And a shiver runs through him as his cock presses against the surface of Yanjun’s desk, the cherry wood cool to the touch. The other man’s fingers are hooked around the curve of his hip bones, thumbs pressing down firmly on his lower back, pushing him gently into a bent over position. All he hears is Yanjun’s voice from behind him, dry and cracked with need and arousal. “Put your hands on the desk, palms flat, and don’t move them. Look towards the hallway.”

 

He feels the other man’s thigh in between his legs, pressing hard. “Legs further apart.” He complies, shifting his feet slightly. “Even further.”

 

And Zhangjing can’t help but feel exposed, spread open. The other man is quiet, and all he can imagine is Yanjun staring at his puckered opening, thinking about how best to fuck him. Yanjun’s next words only serve to make him more aroused. “I can see you pulsating already.”

 

Zhangjing gasps as he feels the other man’s thumb pressed up against him, and he whines, needy with desire. “You said that you were _concerned_ earlier, but in the end, I still have you bent over my desk.” A pause. “You must really want me to fuck you.”

 

And he doesn’t have the willpower to protest anymore, the feeling of Yanjun’s thumb rubbing circles up against him making his mind go blank. “Y-yes, please.”

 

“Does it turn you on thinking that someone might walk in and see you like this? My cock buried in your ass as you beg for me to fuck you?”

 

A pause in the rubbing of circles.

 

_No._

_Maybe._

_Yes._

“Don’t lie.” Zhangjing gasps, feeling the wetness against his opening, Yanjun’s thumb slicked with spit, pressing in slightly. And the mewls of pleasure fall from his mouth when the tip of the other man’s finger slides in partway for just an instant, still tight against his outer ring of muscle. Yanjun’s other hand is at his mouth now, his fingertips probing. “Suck.”

 

Zhangjing opening opens his mouth to accept the other man’s fingers, and the previous image of Yanjun’s digits curled tightly inside of him enters his mind as he begins slicking them with spit. And he is overwhelmed with everything going on, Yanjun’s thumb still rubbing wet circles against his opening, Yanjun’s fingers in his mouth. But all he can do is whimper as he desperately tries to push his hips forward, looking to find friction, any friction, and his cock only rubs up against the flat surface of Yanjun’s desk.

 

“Good boy.” The compliment spikes his arousal as Yanjun removes his fingers. “Let’s see if you’re ready to take my fingers.”

 

The first finger slides in easily, meeting little resistance, and the feeling of being filled in even the smallest way, makes him almost sob with pleasure. His whole body feels exhausted, tired from being brought close to release multiple times, only to have the feeling be snatched away at the last instant each time. The begs are freely flowing from his mouth now as Yanjun moves his finger slowly inside of him, curling at the end of each stroke, sending sparks of arousal through him, brushing up against the nerves there.

 

The second finger makes him cry out in pleasure, but it is short-lived as Yanjun suddenly removes both his fingers. “No, p-please, d-don’t.” And Zhangjing feels his legs trembling with all the effort he’s put in, and a choked-up sob rises in his throat. “P-please don’t s-stop, Yanjun. W-why did y-you s-stop?”

 

“You’re starting to get a bit loud. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, would we?”

 

The sound of silk.

 

And Zhangjing sees it for a second before it’s pressed up against his mouth, soft. The flash of blue and white. Yanjun’s tie. As if by habit, his mouth opens automatically for Yanjun, and he feels it tighten slightly in his mouth, the other man knotting it loosely in the back. “Bite down if you want. I remember from last weekend that you scream pretty loudly.”

 

Zhangjing can hear the smirk in the other man’s voice even without looking at him. And the feeling of the tie in his mouth turns him on more, the expensive silk texture against his cheeks. “O-okay.” _At least it’s loose enough that I can get words out if need be._

Yanjun slips two fingers back into him, and Zhangjing starts panting as the other man begins to alternate spreading his fingers inside him and thrusting in deeper, making him clench down instinctively. “Fuck, just a bit more.” Zhangjing can feel himself pulsating hard, his cock still straining for any type of relief. As if Yanjun can read his mind, the man’s other hand comes around to the front, and Zhangjing lets out a sob of arousal, muffled by the tie clenched in between his teeth, when he feels Yanjun’s hand around him. The other man initiates a light stroking that doesn’t do nearly enough, but Zhangjing is grateful for anything at this point, his body wanting Yanjun so much that he’s afraid of what will happen when the other man does finally fill him.

 

The third finger makes him hiss in pain, too tight against his insides at first, stretching him out. “Shhhh, shhh. You’re doing great.” Yanjun’s voice is calming, reassuring, and Zhangjing is all too eager to please, rocking back slightly onto the other man’s fingers in an effort to help.

 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Yanjun’s voice is filled with lust, a longing that makes his body respond instinctively. “I just want t-“

 

The knock on the door echoes dangerously off the walls.

 

“Mr. Lin? You asked for a reminder half an hour before your conference call.”

 

And Zhangjing is trying hard to muffle his screams of pleasure.

 

_Because Yanjun is still sort of a prick._

_A fucking prick._

There was a pause as soon as the knock happened.

 

A moment’s indecision.

 

And then Yanjun speeds up the pace, thrusting his three fingers into Zhangjing faster, making sure to hit the right spot each time. He is mostly succeeding at holding back, biting down hard on Yanjun’s tie, but he can still hear his own muffled screams. He can only pray that the sound isn’t carrying through the door.

 

“Yes, thank you. Can you remind me what the call is for?”

 

_I’m going to kill him._

_I’m going to fucking kill him._

Because now the secretary launches into an explanation that Zhangjing knows logically only lasts a few minutes, but each second he spends trying not to make any noise seems like an eternity.

 

And Yanjun is loving it, he bet.

 

“Thank you, please let me know if anything else comes up before then.”

 

He watches through the glass as Yanjun’s secretary walks away, the image getting smaller and smaller until she disappears around the corner. It’s not until then that the string of profanities leaves his mouth to which he hears the other man’s laughter. Zhangjing supposes it is hard to take the swearing seriously when it is punctuated periodically by moans. And it doesn’t help that the tie in his mouth makes the words come out slightly garbled.

 

_Fuck._

The pace suddenly slows, and Zhangjing involuntarily whines, feeling the loss. And he attempts to rock his hips backwards, seeking out more contact, fully knowing that he must look utterly needy and hopeless. _It probably gets Yanjun off._ But the thought of Yanjun’s arousal only serves to heighten his own, and he practically sobs when Yanjun takes the other hand away from his cock too.

 

_Fuck pride._

 

“Y-yanjun, please.”

 

Zhangjing doesn’t know what else to do except for beg.

 

The words spill out of him, uncontrollable and messy.

 

The kiss on his back feels like a searing mark over his skin. Zhangjing cries out at the unexpected emptiness, needing to be filled, and he gasps at the feeling of Yanjun against his entrance, finally nudging him. Yanjun goes in slowly, and Zhangjing wonders how it can still feel so tight after so much foreplay. And the other man is rubbing calming circles on his back using his thumbs as he moves forward gradually, stretching Zhangjing out, the sound of his whimpers filling the air.

 

“Relax.”

 

Zhangjing realizes that he is far too tense, unknowingly his muscles have all tightened up in anticipation, craving his release for too long. So he tries to concentrate on just the feeling of Yanjun’s cock, hot and heavy inside of him, pressed flush up against him on the inside, so tight that each small movement sends a spark of arousal running through him. And he’s imagining Yanjun picking up speed until he’s fucking him hard against his desk, making him into a whining mess. Zhangjing doesn’t feel himself clenching down hard until he hears Yanjun swearing in an almost reverent, strained tone.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

 

“Can I move now?”

 

He nods with assent.

 

White, hot pleasure.

 

Zhangjing closes his eyes, and he’s already seeing lights, his fingers digging desperately into the desk, trying to find purchase as Yanjun starts picking up the pace. And the other man is gripping his hips so tightly, trying to lock his body in place, that he is afraid that he will have bruises in the pattern of Yanjun’s fingertips tomorrow. But it doesn’t matter because he is finally being fucked properly, Yanjun’s cock hitting his over-stimulated and extremely sensitive bundle of nerves each time he thrusts in. And the tie is rendered useless now with Zhangjing being too spent to take the effort to bite down and stop his loud moans of pleasure.

 

_Goddamnit._

All he can feel is the quickness of Yanjun’s stroke, sliding in easily now, his inside slicked with a wetness that built up along with his arousal. And he is pulsating wildly, not quite in time with Yanjun pumping into him, sometimes clenching down as he’s being filled and sometimes when Yanjun is pulling back. And he’s close to breaking down, his cock straining to release the pressure that’s been in his groin, needing just a bit more time of consistent fucking to push him over the edge.

 

And Yanjun is giving it to him, urging him to finish.

 

_I’m so close._

 

But he’s still not quite there yet, and he wants to sob with how much he needs Yanjun.

 

Zhangjing almost topples over when Yanjun hooks his arm under one of his legs, lifting it up slightly. _Thank god I’m sprawled across this desk with no where to go._ And suddenly, Yanjun is thrusting into him at an angle, hitting him deeper with each stroke.

 

He’s full-out screaming now.

 

“I-I’m so c-close Y-Yanjun.”

 

The words seem to spur the other man on, and he wonders how much more his body can take, his mind hazy with pleasure, his body sore from being pressed down against the goddamn desk for too long, his mouth dry from screaming, his throat parched, the tie now feeling too thick in his mouth. Yanjun is pounding into him at a furious pace now, without any regard for the screams coming from his mouth. And he feels Yanjun pulsating in him now, hard against his clenching, and Zhangjing knows that the other man is getting close too.

 

It’s the thought of Yanjun filling his ass, a hot and sticky mess, that makes him come.

 

Zhangjing lets out a silent scream as he comes.

 

Fast and hard.

 

And he can see it, his white, sticky mess all over Yanjun’s desk, splashed across the expensive wood.

 

_Oh god._

Zhangjing whimpers when he feels Yanjun come inside him with a few more strokes, letting out a drawn-out groan of satisfaction. It feels hot and delicious, his ass automatically tightening with the feeling of being filled, and Zhangjing feels the sticky mess coming out as Yanjun pulls out lazily, purposely pressing his cock up against him, smearing his mess all over the inside of Zhangjing’s thighs. It feels territorial, possessive, and the thought makes the arousal lick at his insides again.

 

“Fuck, Zhangjing.”

 

He tries to turn around to look at Yanjun, but everything feels sore, and his legs feel like jelly, not able to perform the simple task of pivoting. Luckily, the other man realizes his dilemma, and Zhangjing feels the hands on his waist, lifting him up slightly and turning him so that he’s sitting on the edge of the desk. He whines in protest when he meets Yanjun’s gaze, pulling the tie out of his mouth. “Why here? I just came all over your desk.”

 

And he can feel his own stickiness on the backs of his thighs now, where he is perched precariously. “What does it matter? You’re already a mess and need to be cleaned up anyway.”

 

Yanjun is looking at him tenderly, with the same soft expression Zhangjing had woken up to in the morning after last weekend. It makes his heart skip a beat. Yanjun leans down and catches his lips in a kiss, just barely brushing over his, before pressing a heavier one onto his forehead. “I think we should do this more often.”

 

“Sex or specifically sex in your office?”

 

The other man laughs, and the sound makes his stomach do flip-flops. “Both.” Yanjun cups his cheek in one hand. “But there are other places we can do it too. In my bed. On my kitchen table. In my shower. In my not-so-shitty cars. Not-so-shitty-car-number-one. Not-so-shitty-car-number-two. Not-so-shitty-car-number-three. And so on.”

 

Zhangjing giggles at the reference to earlier, and he reaches his arms up to wrap around Yanjun’s neck, pulling him down closer so he can plant a kiss on the other man’s lips. And the light pink that spreads over Yanjun’s cheeks makes him laugh again. “Yes, yes, and yes.”

 

The spell is broken when the phone on the desk rings. As if by habit, Yanjun automatically picks up, pressing the button for the speakerphone, his voice coming out breathless. “This is Lin Yanjun speaking.”

 

A pause.

 

Then Linong’s voice.

 

“You're having sex, aren't you?”

 

A snort of laughter.

 

“Oh, fuck. I’ll call you back later. Carry on.”

 

Click.

 

Two beats of glorious silence.

 

“Hmmm, want to go again in a few hours? My schedule is clear for the rest of the day.”

 

Zhangjing groans.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)  
> Caard: [loststickienote](https://loststickienote.carrd.co/)


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